Never Did Run Smooth
by Katherine Cruz
Summary: The Dads are being stubborn. What are the kids to do? Gus series. Sequel to By Any Other Name. BrianJustin, Gus POV. Includes Alex and the rest of the cast.
1. Part One

**Never did run smooth**

_The course of true love never did run smooth -- William Shakespeare_

The Dads aren't speaking.

That's all I really know.

I'm still not entirely sure what's going on. I wasn't around for the public meltdown, and the bits that have been told to me are second, even third-hand accounts, heard from this person who heard it from that person…well, you get the idea. Add to that the fact that they came from -- and I say this as lovingly as possible -- overdramatic cynical queens, it all should really be taken with a grain of salt.

Though, I witnessed what was probably Round One and, if that was any indication, the queens, for once, weren't exaggerating.

When I asked Uncle Mikey and Auntie Em, they only shook their heads, each muttering something along the lines of, "If your father weren't so goddamn stubborn…" and "If your Dad would give him the benefit of the doubt…" Then stopped and glowered at each other.

"It's Justin's fault! He shouldn't have--"

"Oh, come on, Brian knows better -"

"Why do you always defend him?!"

"I could ask the same thing!"

"Oh, whatever, fine!"

"Fine!"

And stomped off in opposite directions. So, yeah, they weren't very helpful at all.

Grandma Deb only glared at me until I ordered and patted me on the head as she walked away. Uncle Ben said he was as lost as I was. I'm hoping someone finally figures out who we should be mad at and lets me know.

'Cause I still don't have the faintest clue as to what the hell is going on.

I sigh loudly as the Dads ignore each other over breakfast for the fifth day in a row. DJ gives me a strained smile over the newspaper he's pretending to read. I return it with one that I don't have to see to know looks just as wooden.

Dad finishes first, picking up his plate as he gets up and walks to the sink. The dishes clink in the silence and I glance over at Alex. Her blue eyes meet mine, and this time I force a more natural smile. She doesn't smile back and returns to her cereal. My sister isn't a fool. Hell, Dad's convinced she's a 30-year-old midget instead of a seven-year-old. She scares the crap out of us with how smart she is. So, the tension in the house, the room, and especially the table isn't lost on her.

We know it's bad when they're fighting in front of us. Or, rather, not fighting at all.

I don't look up when Dad drops a kiss on my head and, moments later, does the same to Alex. On any other morning, DJ would walk him to the door so they could make out to their hearts' content without "embarrassing the kids." It could take them a good ten minutes to say goodbye. Twenty if they were frisky, which let's face it, most mornings they were.

Today, however, DJ hides behind his paper and Dad stops at his side, muscle ticking in his jaw. "I have a late meeting tonight." There's no response, and I see the signs that the Kinney temper is on the verge of overload. "I might stay at the loft if it gets too late."

DJ snorts but never looks up. I watch as Dad contemplates something and hold my breath. Maybe he'll put a stop to all this. Apologize and promise never to do whatever he did again. ('Cause I love him, but odds are it's his fault.) Maybe…just maybe.

Yeah. And monkeys might fly out of my ass.

Of course he doesn't. He leaves the room without a word.

Christ. They can be such babies sometimes.

I resist the urge to drop my head on the table, since this is the way things have been in the Taylor-Kinney household for five extremely long days. I'm not really _that _worried. They've had fights like this before. Granted, that was mostly ages ago, when I was a kid, but somehow or another they managed to resolve them.

But that was then. Now they barely get through an entire day without being all over each other. If I don't almost walk in on them at least once in a week, it just feels wrong.

And I haven't in about that length of time.

Things are different now. They aren't two idiots trying to make an impossible situation work, as Dad fondly recalls "the days of yesteryear."

They're married. With two kids. A mortgage (okay, so they flat out own Britin, but still…), bills, cars, pets (if you count the horses, I mean)…the whole kit-n-kaboodle. They're partners. Parents. Proper adults. Acting like 12-year-olds . And that's not completely strange. It's just that normally they act that way _together_. By not speaking (READ: No PDA's or Private DA's or Wherever DA's) for a week, they're throwing the whole universe off balance.

Okay. Fine. So I am a _little_ worried.

My eyes stray to DJ as he clears the table and attempts to make Alex smile. He asks me about my plans for the day. I hear the appropriate response fly automatically out of my mouth, but what I really want to do is shake some sense into him and Dad.

This fight has gotten way out of hand. And when I think about how it started, I almost want to laugh.

Almost.

* * *

It had all started with the honeymoon. 

Or what DJ called (as he rolled his eyes in Dad's direction) their "mutual choice of vacation spot that has nothing at all to do with the heterosexual misconceptions of weddings or marriages or any of that crap." And it had been working, for the most part. The old man had even been excited about it.

They'd had to put it off for three months while DJ opened a new show and Dad tied up loose ends with some new clients. Finally, they'd found the time to figure it out, and of course they'd argued night and day about it.

Over breakfast…

"Venice." DJ had slammed the colorized pamphlet down on the table, wide grin on his face.

Barely glancing at it, Dad sniffed. "Please. It's just an over-hyped water park."

"What?!"

"Half of it is under water, _Justin_."

"I'm aware of that, _Brian._ That would be the point."

"What kind of place puts you on boats as a means of transportation? It's ridiculous. Back me up, Sonny boy."

"Leave me out of this," I had said, concentrating on the notes in front of me. I had a final. They'd have to figure it out on their own.

"You know how many viruses live in water alone? It's gross," Alex piped up from her side of table.

Dad pointed at her. "See. Jitterbug's looking out for us."

DJ sent Dad a withering look.

"You're not helping, Al," I laughed through a mouthful of milk and Raisin Bran.

Over the phone…

"Think of the art. The history. The culture." DJ slipped on his favorite work sweater, with splotches of every color imaginable covering it, and winked at me. He was still working the Italy angle. I could tell it wasn't flying, though.

"You want to go where?" There was a pause and DJ shook his head. "No. It's pretentious, Brian." He tapped a foot on the floor impatiently. "The food is horrible. Yes, I am aware some of the world's finest art is there." He gave an exasperated sigh and I choked back a laugh. They were _so_ an old married couple.

I picked up the extension in the study and said into the phone, "And Debbie said that their cheese tastes like cum." I paused for a moment. "Wait, you might take that as a selling point, Pops."

DJ laughed hard and Dad told me to get the fuck off the phone. I hung up and watched DJ compose himself. He listened, eyes rolling every few moments, and soon he was pouting again. "They sound like they've got phlegm stuck in their throats when they talk." DJ suddenly stood taller, his eyes hooded now. "Brian, don't you dare! I mean it! I don't care if Garrett can get us a deal. The agreement we have is we make a mutual decision. No to France." Another long sigh. "Fine. No to Italy."

The rest of the conversation drifted away as I walked up the stairs.

Dad: 1 - DJ: nada.

I'd been reassured a few hours later (not that I was worried) that everything was fine when I walked in on the Dads mauling each other on the family room loveseat. Great. No way was I sitting there again.

It wasn't until a few days later that I realized there was more going on. Walking past their room on my way to the kitchen, I heard muffled voices in an argument. I stopped next to their door.

"What do you mean you bought tickets?" That had been DJ, using a voice I'd never heard from him before.

"Would you look at them?" Dad sounded almost pleading.

"No."

"Sunshine."

"No. We were supposed to do this together. You and me. A mutual decision between two -- and I know how you hate the word -- _married _partners."

"Jesus Christ, Justin. Not this shit again!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did the phrase hurt your delicate sensibilities?"

"For fuck's sake, look at the tickets before you bite my head off."

I heard the rustle of paper, and suddenly some unknown laugh seemed to escape DJ. "Un-fucking-believable. Florida, Brian? Do I look like a complete idiot to you? Think I don't have any brains?"

"I'm starting to have my doubts, actually."

"Oh, fuck you! You buy us tickets to head to Florida for - and this is just a stab in the dark - the White Party, maybe? For our honeymoon? And I'm supposed to be okay with that?"

"First off, what the fuck are you talking about? And second, it's not a goddamn honeymoon."

I cringed. That was just not the thing to say at that moment. I was hiding in the shadows when their door opened suddenly, and I watched as DJ stormed off in the direction of his studio.

I heard Dad mutter, "Shit," as I walked back to my room.

* * *

Things had seemed to get worse by the day, with DJ refusing to talk to Dad, and eventually the old man just gave up. They stewed on it, snipping at one another, until, as it happened with them, it boiled over. I was spending the weekend at Ma and Corrine's when it happened, so by the time I'd gotten back home, it was a mess.

From what I had gathered, the argument had started at some dinner party the Novotny-Bruckner Uncles were having at their lovely home. Some extremely -- I was assured by Kiki-the-Waitress-formerly-Kenny-the-waiter, whose "sister" had attended -- snotty, collegiate types had started asking Dad questions regarding his well-known lifestyle and, being who he is, Dad had eventually snapped.

Robert, the busboy, told me that according to his boyfriend's roommate, who had also attended, Dad had gotten up and started to leave. DJ had protested and it was _on_. There were accusations thrown back and forth between them. DJ had reminded Dad of his hatred for anything resembling commitment. Dad, in turn, reminded DJ that he had never been the one to walk away. Some random guy's name had been thrown into the mix, and, when it was over, they'd ended up screaming at each other. Soon after, Dad had left.

It's been over a week now.

And the silence is starting to get on my nerves. It wouldn't be so bad if the fighting wasn't getting to Alex.

"The Dads are still pretty mad at each other."

I glance up when she enters my room. Taking a seat on the couch, leaning her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. She looks up, eerily reminiscent of Dad.

"I know, kiddo."

"Daddy looks sad."

"He probably is, Al."

"Dad, too."

"Uh-huh." She's heading somewhere with this.

"It's silly."

"Yep."

"Who fights over a vacation?"

"Our parents."

"Well, it's just plain…silly." She huffs out a frustrated sigh, which coming from someone her size is adorable.

"I agree."

"Someone should tell them that."

"Someone should." I can feel her penetrating stare and shake my head. "Someone that's not me."

I know they'll figure it out together. For all their crap, I know my parents love each other. Deeply and, at times, quite painfully. More than anything else in their lives…except for maybe me and Alex.

"They'll be fine, Al," I reassure her, giving her a wink. "You know how crazy they are about each other."

"I know but --"

"What?"

She looks at me, blue eyes worried. "I don't know."

I hug her, promising everything will be fine. She believes me, of course. I'm her big brother. I don't lie.

And things _are_ looking up.

There are already signs of thawing. Dad initiating conversation, even calling home to find out if we wanted to spend the weekend in the Pitts at the loft. DJ had _almost _smiled when he agreed to it. Even better is that, when he thinks no one's looking, he'll brush his fingers over Dad's coat as he passes it.

That's all very good. But I also know they are both stubborn, and if something doesn't happen soon, it will take another week before they start communicating properly. So, I call Ma for some much needed advice. I figure she would know better than most what to do. She told me that, from what she knew, this fight really had to do with some issues that Dad and DJ have been having for a long time.

"They'll figure it out, Gus. It's just…"

"What?"

"They're married now."

I roll my eyes. "Ma, they've been married for ages."

She chuckles. "Yes, but there's being married and _knowing_ you're married. I just think they're both freaking out just a tad. Jenny Rebecca, put that back!"

I laugh. I love living with Dad and DJ, but I miss Ma occasionally. I haven't lived with her since Mom died. I couldn't go back there. And when she'd married Corrine last year, I knew I wouldn't ever return. They were raising two kids plus JR now, so it was an odd place for me to even visit. "I should go Ma. Tell JR I love her. Say hi to the kids and Corrine."

"I will, baby. And listen, if this is really bothering you, just talk to your Dads. They'll listen."

And so, I will.

"Hey Al, I got an idea."

"For what?" She's coloring next to me, her tongue sticking out slightly as she presses hard on the crayon, messing up the paper.

"To get Dad and DJ to talk," I whisper as I look around to make sure we're alone.

Al looks up from her book, craning her neck to make sure DJ's gone. Satisfied it is safe, she sighs, her elbows on the table, hands framing her face, and smiles at me. "I knew you'd think of something."

"Okay, kid. Don't get too excited. I don't think they really need it, and it might not even work."

"It'll work." There it is again. That same look Dad gets when he's up to no good.

I laugh at her. It will work. And things _will_ go back to the norm of absurd insanity that is the Taylor-Kinney household.

TBC


	2. Part Two

**Never Did Run Smooth - Part II**

_The course of true love never did run smooth -- William Shakespeare_

No matter how many times I walk down Liberty Avenue, it never ceases to amaze me how one street could be so noisy and bright and just plain insane. Al pulls at my hand, pointing to a busload of trannies that are pulling away from the curb. They wave as we pass, a couple of them calling us by name, and we laugh together, waving back. I love it here. Sometimes, I wish we still lived in the loft like we did when I was younger.

After Al was born, the Dads had moved to the house, and I remember being mad. I loved the loft - it was home - and Debbie tried to explain that they had to. Something to do with Alex and Dad being able to be her Dad, so I figured it was probably worth it. And then when Mom died… well, I guess I ended up being glad they had.

I still miss it and the fun to be had in the city, though. Not that we aren't here practically every day, but it's totally different. I wave a hand at Darren as we pass him on the street, and he smiles, waving and throwing kisses at Al. She laughs as she opens the door to the diner, and a wave of scents and warmth hits me. I can smell today's special -- Sloppy Joe's -- and when we step inside, the world becomes colors, lights, laughter and talking. It's like coming home.

"You think Nana will be able to help?"

"I hope so, Al. 'Cause, otherwise, we're screwed."

I glance around and sigh deeply. The diner is full - not surprising for lunchtime on a Friday in the summer - and it's going to be a bitch getting a minute with Grandma Deb. There's no room to sit except for the counter, and we start in that direction when I hear our names. I turn and see Auntie Em and Uncle Ted at one of the corner booths, motioning to us. I point them out and Al runs, squealing "Auntie Emmy!" all the way. She tackles him and they fall into their normal, inexplicable chatter. Dad calls it Gay Sanskrit and marvels at how Al manages to keep up. I'm telling you… a 30-year-old fag hag in that girl. It's so freaking weird.

I sit next to Uncle Ted and turn to greet him when the expression on his face stops me. "Christ, Uncle Teddy, you look fucking miserable."

Auntie Em covers Al's ears and scolds me. "The language, please." I suppress a grin when Al rolls her eyes. In our family, she's had the chance to hear worse. I give him my best "Brian Taylor-Kinney thinks you're a fucking loon" impression and turn back to Uncle Ted.

"What's going on? You and Blake off again?" Seriously, those two need to quit it with the on-again/off-again. They're getting as bad as Dad and DJ in their long-dead youthful years… though I guess not so much.

Auntie Em snorts. "No. The lovebirds are nesting happily, for the time being." He ignores the glare Uncle Ted gives him and leans in to whisper. "Apparently, your dear old dad is being quite the tyrant."

"Oh. Right." I pat Uncle Ted on the shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He grabs my arm, gripping, as he plunges into the details of days spent avoiding Dad at all costs. About how Dad was being intolerable, demanding perfection (not that that was new, but apparently his scare tactics were getting over the top), screaming at all the departments, and even had Cynthia running for the hills. I whimper and pry Uncle Ted's hand off me. It seems Dad had thrown a paperweight at him that morning, which was not received kindly. "It could have killed me, Gus. Your father is losing it."

"Well, Dad doesn't usually get violent. What did you do?"

"Nothing."

We all stare at him silently.

He raises his hands in defense. "Nothing! Justin called and asked to speak to your Dad. The new receptionist gave me the call because Brian was in a meeting. I told Justin that and joked he'd probably be worn out afterwards, you know…" He makes a motion with his hands that I hope Alex can't interpret.

I hear the thud of Auntie Em's head as it hits the table. Yeah. I couldn't agree more. Sometimes Uncle Ted has no people skills whatsoever. "Uncle Teddy…"

"What?! We joke like that all the time. Justin should know by now… Anyway, Brian came back from the meeting. I told him that Justin had called, but when Brian reached him, he was upset and hung up." Uncle Ted sighs, glancing at me. "Brian asked what happened and I told him. That was when he threw the paperweight and told me to get the fu-heck out. I think I may be fired."

I roll my eyes at that. Dad fires Uncle Ted every day. Of course, he usually doesn't fuck up this badly. "He'll get over it. Just avoid him for another day or so. Everything will be fine soon."

Uncle Ted snorts, aiming a disbelieving look my way, and mumbles something I can't quite hear. I figure I don't want to know.

"It's okay, Uncle Teddy." Al's hand reaches over the table, patting Uncle Ted's gently, her face schooled into a look of understanding. "Gus is going to fix it."

I choke on the water I'm swallowing, glaring at her through a fit of coughing. "Alex!"

She blinks at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. "What?"

I glance between Uncle Ted and Auntie Em, managing what I hope is a rueful "silly child, isn't she?" smile before I glare at Alex again. She only smiles back, sunshine and light just like DJ, and I sigh because I'm just as much a sucker for that as Dad is. "We don't know if I can fix it," I say lamely. I can see Uncle Ted brighten at my side and glance at him. "Uncle Teddy, don't get your hopes up. I mean - I don't even know what I'm doing yet."

"Does it involve locking them in a closet together? They could never resist being that close to each other and not end up…" Uncle Ted's eyes flick to Alex, who looks at him with an innocent smile. "Well, you know."

I stare at him. "That was Alex's suggestion."

"I told you it would work, Gus," she states from her seat and nods sagely at Auntie Em. "Daddy said he can't help himself with Dad." I can see the other two stifle a laugh. They look at her with amusement. Well, it's not like she's lying.

Most of the time, they couldn't help themselves _at all_. Like that one time I walked into the kitchen and got an eyeful - I shudder. I swear those two are a pair of freaking nymphos.

I sigh. I actually miss that.

I also know that it won't solve whatever the hell is going on with them right now.

"Look, if that was the answer, then this wouldn't have gone on this long. No. They need something else." I look at the curious faces staring at me and shrug. "And I still don't know what that is."

"Like sex toys?"

"Uncle Ted!"

"Ew." Alex covers her ears and I want to do the same, because really… I don't need to think about it.

"Teddy, don't traumatize the child!" Auntie Em reproaches, patting Alex's back as he does. It's not like Alex isn't aware of certain things about…life. But she is still only seven. What she knows, which is probably more than even I realize, is set in a place of innocence. No need to make her grow up any faster.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." Uncle Ted smiles at Alex, winking when she glares at him. "It's just… well, it's them, you know? They went through fucking - you didn't hear that Alex - hell to get here. It makes us nervous and just a little bit sad to see them like this."

Auntie Em nods. "They're the ideal, you know?" He shrugs at my incredulous look. "It's what people strive to be. Loving and committed but, you know, not like your parents… Oh well, okay, maybe like _your _parents, but not like ours."

"Oh shit. Please don't ever say that to Dad. Please." I clasp my hands together. Uncle Ted laughs, slides one arm over my shoulder, and hugs me to his side.

"We promise." He kisses my temple, releasing me, and asks, "So, what's the plan?"

"Can't say. I need to talk to Deb. Then I'll know how to go about this."

"Why Deb?"

Alex rolls her eyes. "Hello. Nana Deb knows _everything_."

"No."

I let my head fall on the table. "Come on, Gammy! Please!" The name I used for her as a kid slips out in my frustration, and I glance up to see her face soften. I nudge Alex and she joins in.

"Nana, please." She blinks clear blue eyes up at her. Yeah, that kid can work it. "We just need a little help."

"Okay, okay." She flops down across from us, throwing her pad onto the table. "Shit. It's like looking at midget versions of your fathers."

"Nana. The correct term is dwarf. They don't like the word midget."

Grandma Deb stared at Alex. "No shit. Really?"

"Yep."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"I was watching this thing with Dad -"

"Ladies. Can we get back to the topic at hand, please?" I nod at Grandma Deb and she sighs, eyeing me as she fidgets with the menu on the table. "Go ahead, Gammy. Please."

She laughs a little, one hand reaching over to stroke my face, before she says, "You're a manipulative little asshole, you know that? This is a really old issue, Gus. Something that happened when you were still practically a baby."

"That could be anything. They've led a very interesting life."

She smiles, almost to herself, and nods. "Ain't that the fucking truth?" Her face registers shock and she pats Alex's hand. "You didn't hear that, baby." Alex shakes her head but says nothing, so Grandma Deb continues. "Okay. Some damn idiot at the party started questioning Brian about his 'lifestyle' and if he still -" She glances at Alex and then back at me, making a face. I nod that I understand and ignore the way Alex glowers at us. She hates being left out.

"Got it."

"Right. So, Brian refuses to answer any questions and just said, rightly so, that it's between him and Justin. I guess Justin was getting frustrated and blurted out that he had no idea himself because they never talked about it. Brian started to walk away, Justin followed, and they started screaming at each other in the hallway. Something about Brian's - um…well, you know. And then I guess Brian mentioned he wasn't the one that always left, saying something about Ethan, and slammed out the door." She shrugs when she's done. "That's it, kiddo. I was in shock because those things happened ages ago, and I thought they'd hashed it out."

I stare at her, slamming my hands on the table. "Who the fuck is Ethan?" DJ was - no way. I can't even believe that Dad would be… I mean, I know that they used to and that it was okay but this is different. They're married now. This means they were lying to each other and they never… My head starts to hurt and I want to cry. This is not happening. My parents are crazy about each other. Alex looks at me, and her lower lip trembles just a little at my reaction. She knows I'm upset.

Grandma Deb stares in surprise, grabs one of my hands, and I can see she's trying not to laugh. "Ethan. You never heard of Ethan? The violin player…" She lets the sentence trail off.

Something clicks in my mind. Wait…Ethan?

"The fiddler? I thought his name was Ian."

She laughs. "According to your father, yes. His real name is Ethan Gold."

"Oh!" Alex exclaims, and we turn to look at her. "Dad hates that guy. He came on once when we were painting in his studio and he almost broke the radio. I asked him who that was, and he told me it was someone that made him do something stupid once."

I smile at that. "I guess so. But Uncle Ben told me he thought that the Ian - Ethan - whatever thing had ended up being a good thing." I look back at Grandma Deb. "That's what this is about?"

She nods. "As far as I know. They're freaking out, Gus. They're married. _Married_."

Alex and I roll our eyes. Seriously, it's not like they haven't acted that way for years, and I say exactly that.

Grandma Deb smiles her knowing "you're still so young" smile she gives me sometimes and pats my cheek. "Yes, but now they're afraid they're going to fu- screw it all up. Baby, your Dads are not the best in the communication department sometimes. I mean, believe me, they're better than they used to be…"

"But they still got a long way to go," I say. That's for sure. It's time to do something about this. "Thanks, Gammy." I lean over and kiss her cheek, sliding out of the booth. Alex throws her arms around Grandma Deb's neck and thanks her. She kisses her soundly and then gets up to hug me.

"You want my suggestion, Gus?" She whispers in my ear and I nod. "Talk to Brian."

* * *

Kinnetik is the scariest place in the world to be. There's always a million and one people scrambling around, lots of noise and yelling, mostly from Dad . Fax machines whirring, phones ringing, employees running to meet deadlines. It's hectic and insane and so fucking frantic that I want to run from the building, from all the creative energy that jumps at you. I don't think I could ever be that driven, that focused. I take after DJ. Creativity at my own pace.

I guide Alex towards Dad's office and wave at Cynthia as we walk past her. Her face brightens up when she sees us and motions that we should go in. Probably figures we'll keep him distracted enough that she can breathe for a second. I can't say I blame her. I know how Dad gets when he's in one of his moods. I knock on the door and, when Dad turns to look, Alex and I flash him our biggest grins.

He can't help but grin back and waves us in. Alex runs to him and he scoops her up, kissing her cheek repeatedly. "Hello, Jitterbug."

"Hi, Daddy." She wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes tightly. The small smile that Dad gives me is at least a happy one. He reaches for me with his free arm and hugs me to him.

"Hi, Dad."

He pulls back and glances at both of us. "What do I owe this surprise visit to?"

He sets Alex down and she places her hands on her hips. "We think you and Dad need to stop fighting, Daddy."

"Al." I groan into my hand. This is not the way to approach the subject. I look up at Dad, whose face shows something akin to amusement, and sigh. Good. That's good. He glances back and forth between us.

"You do?"

"Well, yeah." I sit down on the new leather sofa and Alex sits comfortably in my lap. We're a team. The Taylor- Kinney kids… stubborn, smart, and some other adjective I can't think of. A force to be reckoned with. That's us. "Sit down, Dad."

He does that eyebrow thing of his, but takes a seat on the table - which I know cost a fortune 'cause he'd talked about it enough - and leans forward, hands clasped loosely together.

"Okay, Dad, listen." I glance at him and ask, "Are you listening?"

He smirks at me and nods. "I'm listening."

Okay, here it goes. "Whatever it is, Dad, that you and DJ are fighting about, it's - how do I put this delicately?"

"Stupid," Alex provides helpfully.

"That's it." I nod, smile at her in thanks, and look back at Dad. "It's stupid. Ian, Dad? You're mad about something that happened like a decade ago?"

"Debbie has a big mouth." Dad runs one hand through his hair and shakes his head. "I swear, I'm going to superglue it shut one of these days."

"That's not nice, Daddy. Nana was only trying to help."

He pats Alex's knee, winking at her. "Sorry about that, Jitterbug. I was only kidding. Kind of." He watches us both as he says, "I don't want you guys to worry about any of this, okay? Your Dad and I are fine."

"Really. 'Cause the week not speaking says differently."

Dad sighs. "It's our issues, Gus. Doesn't concern you or your sister."

I snort. "Um… actually, yeah, it does."

I receive his patented stare. "No. Neither one of you should worry about this."

"We're family, Daddy. What happens to one of us, happens to all of us."

Alex can be quite the perceptive little co-conspirator.

"She's right. What happens with you and DJ affects me and Al. We live in the house, too." I gently push Alex off my lap to sit next to me and lean forward. "I get that you're a little freaked out." I meet his eyes. "I don't think you're going to fuck it up."

His expression softens and he touches my cheek. "Watch the language, Sonnyboy."

I smile at him. "Alex didn't hear that, did you, Al?"

"Hear what?"

"See?" I shrug as I glance over at Al. "Dad, I know this isn't our business. Not really. And I know you and DJ will get past it, but maybe this time you could do something more."

"Uh-huh. And what could that be?"

"I don't know, maybe, talk to him."

Dad's eyebrow raises again, and I wonder what he's about to say, but I interrupt. "Dad, sometimes we need to hear it. It's just the way it is. And aren't you always the one that says the hardest things we have to do are the most important?"

"Yeah, Daddy. And, if it's important, you just do it."

There's this little smile twitching on his lips, and he glances between me and Alex, sighs and rubs his face with one hand. "What exactly am I supposed to say?"

"I love you."

"He knows that, Gus." Dad eyes me when I stare at him. "He better damn well know it." When neither Alex nor I say anything, he throws his hands in the air. "I married the little sh-"

"Daddy!"

"Well, I did."

"Why?" It's a question I always wanted to ask just to see what he would say. "You were together for 15 years. It wasn't necessary. I know you said it was because of Alex, and the whole name thing, but that was the excuse, not the reason."

Dad looks at me thoughtfully. "You're too smart for your own good." He sighs, runs a hand over his already disheveled hair.

"It's the Taylor-Kinney genes." I'm not going to push him for an answer. I already know it. But, seeing as this is Dad - he surprises me.

"I was ready."

There. Three words. One simple statement.

Dad had been ready.

"And your father knows that," he says before I can comment.

"Maybe you need to remind him."

It's the best suggestion I can give him.

He stares at me for a long time before speaking again. "Maybe I do."

I give him a quick hug and motion to Alex. He stands and Alex hugs his knees as he bends to place a kiss on her head. "Bye, Daddy."

I hold out my hand and she grasps it as we make our way out. At the door, she turns suddenly, face lighting up. "Oh! And don't forget the chocolate and flowers, Daddy!"

He stares at her as I bust out laughing.

"That's it. No more Julia Roberts movies for you…"

TBC


	3. Part Three

**Never Did Run Smooth - Part III**

_The course of true love never did run smooth -- William Shakespeare_

"Check."

"Check?"

"Yep. Check."

I look down at the chess board. I can't believe this. I'm getting my ass kicked by a seven year old. "Damn it." I have to talk to Uncle Ted about teaching her this stupid game. "You sure you're not cheating, Ally-Mac?"

Her eyes flash annoyance and she sticks her tongue out. "Daddy's right, Gus. You're just a sore loser -- like Dad." I make a face at her because, okay, maybe DJ and I hate to lose, but she and Dad aren't any better. She watches as I reluctantly move one of my knights, the only move I have left really, to block one of hers, and then smiles. Crap.

It's quick. Her hand moves the piece and she grins at me as she says, "Checkmate. Sucker."

"No more games with you." I say, gathering up the pieces and board as I ignore her laugh. She heads to the stairs, saying over her shoulder, "I'll go pick a movie, since I won."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. But no Disney crap."

She stops and smirks quite well for someone her age. "Please. A little credit."

She clunks down the stairs to the lower floor, stumbles once, says something she shouldn't, and then it's quiet. It might take her some time to pick out what she wants to see, so I take my time cleaning up our mess. I wonder if she closed the door at the bottom of the stairs. The loft's silence is welcome, though, so I'm not going to complain. It gives me time to think, and I always feel like we're the best here, the four of us. It had taken a while, getting used to owning the whole building. It was a little much at first. But once it had been finished, it was great. Who the hell else could own a three story loft except for Dad and DJ?

There's the sound of shoes clomping up the stairs and Al comes barreling at me, holding my cell phone in one hand. Her face is flushed, and my heart starts to race.

"Something wrong, Al?"

"I don't know! It's Auntie Emmy, but he won't tell me anything. Says he wants to talk to you."

I grab the phone, taking a seat on the small couch in the Dads' living room, and Al stands on the cushions next to me, bending to press her ear against the phone. I tilt it slightly so she can hear better and swallow past the lump in my throat. "Auntie Em?"

"Hey, baby! I just wanted to give you a heads up about your fathers."

I close my eyes. Great. Another damn fight. I try not to glance at Al, but I can sense her disappointment. I thought going out with Uncle Michael and Ben was a good sign. They had seemed fine when they'd left. DJ had even laughed at something Dad had said. I'd taken that as a sign they had talked.

Damn it.

"How bad was it?"

There's a pause and then a, "Huh?"

"The fight, Auntie Em. How bad?"

"What fight?" His voice crackles over the line and then he exclaims, "Oh, no! No! That's not what I meant, sweetie. Fuck no! Oh, sorry, baby." He takes a deep breath, and I swear he's trying not to giggle. What the hell is going on? "No. It was great. Seriously, Gus, if you had been here…"

I can look at Al now, and she's grinning. She talks into the phone. "Tell us what happened, Auntie Emmy!"

"Drew, hold on, let me finish here!" I can hear him sigh and then he continues. "Drew says hi and that he thinks your Dad was totally justified." There's some sort of debate, and I'm about ready to crawl out of my skin. I tap my shoe on the floor, shrugging when Al holds her hands out.

"Hello, Auntie Em?"

"Hey! Sorry about that. Okay, so here's the blow by blow, no pun intended. Your dads came in together, to the shock and relief of the whole of Woody's, 'cause you know everyone really is rooting for them. And whatever you did, baby, good job. Proud of you! I always knew you had a matchmaker in you."

I stifle a groan. Jesus, it was like pulling nails. "Thank you, Auntie Em. Now what happened?"

"Right! Anyway, they came in, a little subdued for them, you know. Not their usual 'Get a fucking room!' - you didn't hear that, Alex - all over each other. But it was looking good. Your Dad kept saying things and Justin would laugh. I was so fucking glad, I bought us all a drink. Somewhere after, like, half an hour, your Dad left to do something -- still don't know what -- and some baby-faced thing sits down next to Justin."

Al mumbles an, "Uh-oh," and I know my eyes must look like saucers.

"So he starts to - Is Al still listening? Never mind. He starts to come on to him. It was really quite sad. I mean, I think those lines were being used when I was your age. Poor thing was fucking hammered. Justin was nice and kept politely turning him down. Course, guy didn't take a hint and put his hand on Justin's - well, you can fill-in-the-blank there. At that point, Ben and Drew were about to get up and intervene, but that's when your Dad showed up. I mean, I'm sure Justin could have taken care of it, of course… Anyway, your Dad grabs the guy by the collar, literally picks him up and _moves_ him to the next empty stool, then warns him that the next time 'you put your fucking hands on _my _husband, you'll be pulling back stubs.'"

Al covers her mouth with her hand.

All I can say is, "Holy shit!" I glance at Al and she nods.

"Yeah, yeah. I didn't hear anything."

Auntie Em practically squeals over the phone. "I know! I fell off my goddamn stool when I heard him. I think all of Woody's came to a screeching halt. It's not like we don't know how your Dad feels… but, okay, it's that… he's never done anything like that."

I shake my head. "What did DJ do?" I know he hates being treated like he's still some kid.

"Oh, that was the best part! Your Dad turns to him and starts to say that he knows Justin doesn't like him to act like Justin can't take care of himself, but that he wasn't just going to sit around and let some guy touch him… and so on. And, somewhere in the middle of that semi-sweet speech, Justin jumps him."

Al starts to hop up and down. "Woo-hoo!"

I wave at her to stop. "Al, I can't hear! So, DJ jumped Dad?"

"Yeah. They were getting hot and heavy at the bar. I think Brian said something about needing to get home and they left. That's why I was calling. Thinking you and Al should make like a tree and be scarce."

I laugh at that because -- it's so Auntie Em. "Right. They'll be here any minute. We'll disappear. Thanks for calling, Auntie Em."

"Anytime, baby. Good job with whatever you said to your Dad." He made a few kissing sounds, and then the line went dead.

I look at Al, who is doing some kind of victory dance around the coffee table, and start to laugh. "We better get out of here, kid."

She makes her way to the stairs, still doing that stupid dance, when the door to the upper loft opens and the Dads crash through. They don't see us, and I push Al as fast I can, even as she cranes to see for herself that they are making up.

Oh yeah… they certainly are…

* * *

Al is sitting at the counter, kneading the cookie dough I gave her and smiling at me every other minute. I can't say I blame her. It's nice to have some semblance of order around here. I search the drawers but can't find the cookie cutters, and then I remember we had taken them upstairs to the other kitchen.

"Um…"

Al looks at me, pausing mid-knead. "What?"

"No cookie cutters."

She blinks at me and I point up. She glances down at the dough and tilts her head to one side. "Maybe we can make one big cookie."

"Nuh-uh. Remember what happened last time? No thank you. No more firefighters."

She strains to listen, but really the walls in this place were practically soundproof - on purpose, thank you - so there was no way of knowing what the hell was going on upstairs. "They could be asleep."

I snort and wipe my flour-dusted hands on a kitchen towel. "Doubtful. They haven't checked on us yet, which means… well, it just means it'd be a bad idea."

Al shrugs. "They'll be in their room, though."

I shake my head again. No way was I going to chance it. I pull out the Saran Wrap and take the dough, placing it in a bowl and covering it. I look at her pouting face and make one back. "We can make them tomorrow night."

She leans her chin on her hands, looking up at me. "Fine. But can we at least get popcorn for the movie?"

I laugh, pulling out the box. "You got it."

* * *

We're sitting on the couch in the family room, and Al's fallen asleep somewhere between the point where Gonzo was flying in the air, being shot at by Doc Hopper, and when Miss Piggy and Kermit went on their ill-fated date. I know she's tired, since the latter is her favorite scene. I can see her on the other end, one hand falling off the edge, the other one tucked under her face.

I stretch my legs out behind her and try not to kick her as I make myself more comfortable, lying down on my side. I can feel the drowsiness falling over me now and yawn to keep it at bay.

I was _so_ going to see a giant Animal scare the crap out of those evil dudes.

And I'm waiting for Dad and DJ to make an appearance.

There are footsteps growing louder and hushed whispers, and I smile. The Dads had come to check on us. I close my eyes so that they don't realize I'm waiting for them. It's not like I'm still nine years old and need my Dads to tuck me in. I sense when they enter and pause at the door.

"Do you want to carry them?"

"Um… have we time-warped back ten years? Does Gus look a kid to you?"

"Yes."

Dad snorts. "Well, I think he'd be pretty pissed if we carried him to bed, Justin."

Thank you, Dad.

"He looks comfortable. I don't want to wake him up."

"Then we don't."

I feel a hand over my hair a moment later. It's Dad, and he leans down to give my forehead a peck. I know he's doing the same to Al a second later. DJ covers us both with a blanket, his hand brushes back my hair, and I try not to let a giddy laugh out. Okay, maybe mentally I was still nine.

It's back to the way it's supposed to be.

I assume they'll be going back upstairs, but when I hear DJ make a little gasp, I know he just saw what was onscreen.

"Oh, come on, Brian. Can we just watch the end?"

I try not to laugh at the sound of his voice and Dad's tortured sigh. I hear him flop on the loveseat across from us and his "oof!" when DJ sits on him. "Sunshine, you might want to think about cutting back on the fucking sweets."

I open my eyes slightly and I can make them out through the misty haze of my vision. They're both in their jogging pants, Dad with his damn wifebeater and DJ in one of Dad's old shirts. I try not to sigh… They're going back to their honeymoon phase, I can tell. DJ smiles up at Dad, touching his face with his fingers. "It doesn't matter what you say… you give a shit."

I can tell Dad is trying not to smile as he looks at the TV. "Shove it, Sunshine."

"I can't believe you used the term _husband_."

DJ is grinning now, and Dad grimaces. "Shit. You're never forgetting that, are you?"

"No fucking way." DJ wraps his arms around Dad's neck and says as he kisses his temple. "It was sweet and romantic."

"Justin… stop." Dad is making a face and DJ is playing with his hair now.

"You give a shit," DJ begins to sing-song between kisses on Dad's face. "You so care about me… You love me SOOOO much…." I think Dad is rolling his eyes, but I can't really make it out. "Brian Kinney gives a shit."

There's a small pause, and then I'm sure Dad grins and looks up at DJ, with that look he always gets when he looks at him, and I almost laugh at his response.

"Fuck you."

DJ gives a laugh and I close my eyes. I guess this is some weird inside joke between them. I think I'm going to pretend to wake up so they stop, because it feels wrong to be a part of this moment that's between them. But, before I do, DJ speaks again.

"Did you really think I was going to leave, Brian?"

"Justin…"

"Brian."

There is a sigh, which I know came from Dad, and then he surprises me by answering. I can sense he's looking at me and Al before he does. "Sometimes, yeah."

"Why the fuck would you think that?"

"I'm a shit, Justin. Don't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind." I want to correct him, to tell him that he's the best man I know and the greatest Dad, but I know that if he knew I could hear him it would be…

Not good.

"You can be difficult." There's a snort and DJ ignores it. "But so can I. We both make mistakes, Brian. It's who we are." I'm not sure what is going on, but I hear a kiss and I figure DJ is doing what he does best. Soothing. "But don't you think fifteen years and the two kids makes a difference?"

"You left more than once in the fifteen years, you know."

"Yeah. And, as I recall those times, no matter how stupid the reasons, we needed the time apart. But we found our way back…"

"I swear, Sunshine, if you burst into song, I will divorce your ass no matter…"

DJ is laughing and asks, "No matter what?"

"Nothing."

"Say it."

Dad sighs. "No matter how much I love you. Okay? Happy?" Then, after a pause, he asks quietly, "Did you really think I don't respect you?"

"No. I was just… being me. You know, one of those shit times."

"You know I do, Justin."

"I know."

"No more bullshit, then, about the tricking?"

There's a pause and Dad's voice sounds irritated when he says. "Justin."

"You never said it out loud, Brian."

"For crying -- did I really need to? I married you. You know I wouldn't have if…" Dad stops and then softly finishes. "It's been years, Justin. You know that."

"I know. I just wanted to hear it."

I open my eyes for a moment and see that their foreheads are touching now. They're smiling at each other, so I close my eyes again.

"So, no more bullshit about the non-tricking?"

"No more. No shit about leaving you?"

"No."

"And no more stupid, irrational, I cannot believe you still think he could possibly be an issue, shit about Ethan?"

"The fucking fiddler?"

"Brian… it was over a decade ago. It was stupid… on both our parts… and it was over back then. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good."

There's some silence, where I know their mouths are busy doing other things, so I squeeze my eyes tight and wait for them to speak. Or go away. Whatever happens first.

"You two can stop pretending to sleep now."

Crap.

I sigh, open my eyes and glance down the length of the couch at Al, who's grinning at me. "You, too?"

She nods and starts giggling.

The Dads are shaking their heads and trying to look stern. I'm sure we're getting a lecture about privacy, eavesdropping, and all that good stuff. Though they need to think about having these conversation in places that aren't the family room. But at the moment… with Al laughing, DJ looking ready to join her, and Dad staring at them both the way he is… I could give a shit.

**Epilogue  
**

Dad hands me a picture and silently points out the ridiculous middle-aged guy in a Hawaiian shirt with socks up to his knees. I snicker and DJ turns to us, rolling his eyes before returning to talking with Aunt Daphne on the phone, and cooking dinner while he does so.

It's his turn and I'm grateful. Dad never cooks. He tried once, but… yeah. No. Take-out king in our house. That's him.

Al climbs onto Dad's lap, still wearing the stupid mouse ear hat I got her, and giggles at the picture Dad is holding. He makes a face and shakes his head.

I'm still as shocked at his grand sacrifice as I was when he first told us about it.

I know he's planning a new surprise "vacation! damn it don't call it a honeymoon!" for their anniversary, but it says a lot about how much he loves us that he planned a family one.

Ma had almost busted a gut when he'd told her about it, and he still refuses to talk to her.

He puts down the stack of photos. "I can't believe I did that."

I laugh, looking at a particularly embarrassing one of Dad and DJ. "You and me both. What made you do it?"

"Some little shit I know - you didn't hear that, Jitterbug - once put the idea in my head." He glances at DJ, that look he always gets that I can't even begin to describe, and smiles. "I just wanted to prove I listen."

I don't know what the hell he's talking about and shrug. Whatever. It was a fucking awesome vacation. I don't care how old you are.

DJ is laughing at something Aunt Daphne is saying and looks over at us. "Oh, nothing. Just making Mom's meatloaf and looking at the pictures from when we took…" He stops abruptly when Dad starts to laugh really loud, and throws a towel at him. "Shut up, asshole!"

Dad lets go of Al, who takes his seat as he makes his way to the kitchen. He smiles and DJ laughs, leaning over the counter to kiss him.

I look at Al and she shrugs at me.

"Ally-Mac, our parents are so weird."

We glance at them, watch as they talk quietly and share another kiss…

She grins at me. "Yeah. Ain't it great?"

I laugh.

I couldn't agree more.

The End


End file.
